....Too Much to Do, Not Enough Time to Post...

Reasons I haven't been blogging:

1. Trying to sort through clothes, toys and what-not for an upcoming yard sale.
2. Either re-sorting or flopping on the couch and momentarily giving up after my "helpers" have unsorted the clothes, toys and what-not for the yard sale.
3. Pressure washing our fence.
4. Peeling from the sunburn acquired from the day spent pressure washing the fence.
5. Attending the wake and funeral of my grandmother's husband.
6. Being wiped out from nursery duty at church.
7. Finding good deals (Y'all won't believe the deal I got on a Macclaren stroller!).
8. Wishing and hoping and dreaming about a beach vacation, if Hubs gets a bonus this summer.
9. My job as the girls' social director.
10. Doctors appointments and routine bloodwork.

In the meantime, I'm going to respond to a comment from my most previous post:

Great reminder. I'm very struck by how different the tone is in this entry compared with your pre-pregnancy posts. God really has changed you in some profound ways, huh? You've been walking through a LOT of refinement in the couple years I've been reading your blog. It's encouraging to watch (read?)

First, thank you. I hope I'm growing and that I am learning the lessons God has been trying to teach me.

Second, infertility is so many things, one of the primary things being frustrating. And I used my blog to vent a lot of that frustration because most people I know don't understand. Not to mention that there was an odd baby boom going on all around me at the time, further aggravating the frustration.

Third, once you go through what we have, your priorities have so quickly aligned that things that used to bug the crap outta me don't so much anymore. Really, I think it's the perspective that comes along with a situation like that. Also, and so very importantly, through my pregnancy with Abbie, I learned that, in reality, we have no control over anything. The only thing we can do is put it (whatever it is at the time) in God's hands and wait. The answer isn't ours; it's His. The timing isn't ours; it's His.

As frustrating as that was for me during when we were trying to get pregnant, oddly, it's kind of refreshing now, because I've learned that when the only thing we can do is lean on God and trust Him, we best do it, because we'll drive ourselves crazy trying to fix it on our own. During my pregnancy, God did a work in me. Some people call it a gift. But basically, it's this:

Philippians 4:7
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

People were actually kind of shocked that we weren't freaking out during my pregnancy. But, when God gives you a gift of peace, it might not make sense to a lot of people. Yes, we knew what the statistics were. Yes, we knew there was a chance our baby might not live. It was a process of leaning more on God and less on ourselves or even on modern medicine. Especially, it was a process of trusting more and more in God and His word.

No, I'm not where I need to be, but I hope I'm a few steps ahead of where I used to be.

What I've Been Up To Lately

So, some of you are wondering about the state of The Burn, and I can report that it is healing, ever so slowly. To you "skin pickers," (shiver) I can tell you that there hasn't been a great deal of peeling, but rather, crusting (sorry, TMI, I know). I've been really concerned about all this and am trying to get in to see a dermatologist before the beginning of next year (yes, literally. If they are good, they are booked solid unless you're an established patient).

In the meantime, I have been focusing a lot of attention on a project which is going to be so worth it when it's over. I have hired a professional organizer to help me clean out the garage. My plan is to start with the garage and then move to the house. This will probably be a summer-long project, I hate to say, but my hope is that when this is finished, life will be better.

Heather over at Dooce.com wrote a really great post, part of which I'm going to include here because she says what I've been feeling better than I could:

I want to be a better wife, a more conscious and present mother, a more loyal friend, and a better listener. I'd like to handle my anxiety better. I also want to be more organized because I'm tired and fed up with not being able to find anything. Many times that anything is my head.

Some of you who know me know that I've never been organized or the best at keeping things straight, but there was a time that I could actually find what I was looking for because 1. I could remember and 2. Things weren't as out of control as they have been here for the past who knows how long.

Part of why the house is the chaotic mess it is, is we moved from a house with a full-size basement to a house without a basement at all. There isn't a lot of storage and the kitchen here is microscopically tiny, with no room to store a full set of pots and pans and a few baking sheets. I learned that having a full-size basement is potentially dangerous, as it offers ample room to throw old, outdated, unwanted stuff because you just pitch it down there and never realize the enormous pile that has surmounted in the lower level of the house. I had wanted to purge most of the basement collection before we moved, but that is a long story which I cannot tell for reasons I cannot tell, so let's just skip over that.

Last summer, I was no good around the house. I had started to experience symptoms of pre-eclampsia in late June and/or early July, so all I was supposed to do was come home after work and lay on my left side. While I spent the summer as Shamu beached on the couch, the mess in the house got worse. My husband kept things going, but things have accumulated for so long, it just never ends.

When we brought Abbie home from Cincinnati, our energy was entirely focused on her care and feedings (you have no idea how long NG tube feedings can take!) and the care and feeding of Hannah as well. Then, there was surgery and recovery.... let's just put it this way: since we got home in September, I didn't do much in the way of deep cleaning our home. I took care of my kids and that was pretty much it.

Sometime in the new year (I honestly cannot remember when), I told my therapist that I needed to do something about my house, that the stuff we've amassed is just closing in on me and that I physically felt crowded. I hate that feeling and have been trying, in meager attempts, to do what needs doing and purge all the things we no longer use or want. Hence, the yard sale in early May.

Please know that our house is nothing like what was depicted on Oprah when she did a show about hoarding. No where close. But, I don't want to even lean in that direction, so I want to get the matter of our clutter under control ASAP.

It's easy for me to get off task, and loving on my babies is always much more fun than cleaning. Then one day a few weeks ago, I decided enough is enough. I saw an ad in the newspaper and called the lady to come over for an estimate. She and I have been working to clear out the garage, which is already inspiring me to forge ahead in our home.

Can we really afford paying someone to come to our home to keep my nose to the grindstone so that our garage is finally a place where we can park our car and find lawn equipment? No, not really. It is a sacrifice to do it. But I counter: Can we really afford not to do this? My answer is emphatically, no, we cannot afford to not do this, because as Heather stated above, I want better for my kids, for my home and for myself.

In making my case for this to my husband, I said:

I want better for our kids. I want them to be able to have their friends over whenever, without having to have a huge cleaning spree right before. I want to be able to open our door without cringing when someone knocks on our door. I want to be able to invite someone in when they stop by unannounced and be really ok with the way the house looks. I want to be able to find the things I need and want to find. I want to know where things are. I want peace, calm, order and structure for our home. I want better for all of us.

So, dear friends, the reason my blog has been neglected is because I'm finally taking care of other things that have been neglected for far too long. While I love communicating with you and while I love writing about life, living life and providing a better life for myself and my kids is what's really important. I know you understand. I'll be back soon. But, as with the sunburn, without photos. ;-)

2 Posts: Looking Back / Real Me vs. Perceived Me

I wanted to address something, just to touch base and move on. I didn't keep a journal during either pregnancy. Last year, while I was pregnant with Abbie, I did both email and blog updates for family and friends, mostly so people would know what was going on and how they could pray for her.

Some things are so etched in our memories that I doubt we'll ever forget them. Ask nearly any mother what time her baby was born or to tell you details about the day her baby was born, and she can. Where were you when you heard that JFK had been assassinated? Where were you on 9/11? People answer these questions without even having to think about it.

Many are memories like that of last year. The Day I wrote about last week is one of them. There were other Days that I'll talk about, because I've been thinking a lot about the past year and the past 7.5 months... how God has worked... what could have been and what is. It's amazing! Some things I didn't talk about because I was too freaked out about it to even say it aloud or write it down, such as, my baby could die. Some things were so incredible and showed God's faithfulness, that I've treasured those things in my heart until I can share them.

I don't want to really rehash things, but I think it is important, for me, anyway, to inspect them one last time before putting them away. I want to acknowledge what we went through, honor what God did and, hopefully, show the glorious work He did for my daughter. Because, can I tell you? Can I really tell you enough of God's goodness? Hardly. I talk a lot, you know that for sure, but I never want to shut up about God's faithfulness. He's been too good for me to not talk about it for eternity.

So, if you will bear with me, over the next 5 or 6 months, I'd like to re-trace my steps one last time. Not to proclaim how good I am, because I'm not. But to show you how true the words of the poem, "Footprints" really are.

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Real Me vs. Perceived Me

I've been thinking a lot about things. This blog and what I've written on it have gotten me into hot water on a couple of occasions. Some of the things I've said here haven't been nice. Some things have shocked people. Other things have hurt people. Though never my intention, that is what happened. While I know I should apologize for crossing lines and hurting people (and I have), should I be apologetic about being honest about who I am? About being honest about where I am life?

My question lately has been: should I apologize for trying to be real? Because, really, all I've tried to do here is be authentic, even when it wasn't nice or pretty or even a good testimony of my faith. This is the tricky thing: when you say you're a Christian, the slightest variance off the path of righteousness can cause others to point their fingers and call you a hypocrite, a liar.

I've never wanted to be those things, ever. I just want to be transparent. Even when I'm not the person I want to be. Because I think that unless we bring our faults to light, unless we confess, in one way or another, what our sins are, what our imperfections are, what our blemishes are, so that He can restore us completely, what's the point? I mean, if all I am is someone who dresses up on Sunday, puts on make-up, behaves one way, but secretly struggles with a myriad of things, why say that I believe Jesus died for me? Why say that if I won't say, "Hey, I'm messed up. I can't do it on my own. I need Jesus every day. I'm broken, but He's not finished with me yet." Because none of us is a finished product. We are all broken and in need of mending. Pretending otherwise just negates the point, doesn't it?

While I realize that me being so open about things opens the door for criticism, I still believe that being open about who I am will, in the end, be ok.

Maybe one of the problems in this is, there's the "real" me: the broken, damaged, sinful me who lives day to day, failing all the time, but always trying to be the person I think God wants me to be.

Then there's the "perceived" me, the side of me you would only know or observe in passing, the me who looks like she has it relatively together, who matches the family's clothes on holidays, the "best foot forward" me who you would only know if you didn't really get to know me, talk with me, go beyond the cordial platitudes of social settings and put forth the effort to really get into the nitty gritty of life, examining or talking about the hard stuff we all go through, and the things that only a few of us go through.

I will admit, I haven't let many people know me well enough to let me let my guard down and really open my heart. I've been hurt too many times and have learned to not put it all out there because, in the past, I've had the most hurtful things that have happened in my life thrown in my face. I am very slow to open up to others about things. But I've found that most people are so busy with their own lives and schedules that we no longer take the time to build friendships that are strong enough for the kind of intimacy I'm talking about.

In the beginning and still today, this blog is very much about examining life, taking life by the horns, enjoying life and living life. It's also about finding the Life only One can give.

But it's also about me, how I fit into the equation, and how God can take someone as messed up as I am and hopefully, make something out of it.

Listen, I don't like where I am. I haven't for a long time, but I can tell you that things have gotten a lot better. If you really knew me and knew where I'm coming from, you'd so understand that. I'm growing. The thing about plants.... they grow and that growing is continual. It's so slow, you don't even notice it, but it's always growing. I think--no, I hope and pray--that is the case with me.

My most sincere hope and prayer is that my faults and shortcomings will somehow show God's glory. If I am nothing, He is everything. If my quilt is full of holes, I hope His light always shines through.

The Quilt

As I faced my MAKER at the last judgment, I knelt before the LORD along with all the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives, like the squares of a quilt in many piles. An angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares of cloth off the pile.

I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all. I glanced around me, nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and bright hues of worldly fortune.

I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose, each in turn, hold up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness, and death, and false accusations that took from me my world as I knew it.

I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been help up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the FATHER in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth.

My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was. I rose and slowly lifted combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air. I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes, then I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image - the face of CHRIST. Then our LORD stood before me, with warmth and love in HIS eyes.

He said, "Every time you gave over your life to ME, it became MY life, MY hardships, and MY struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let ME shine through, until there was more of ME then there was of you."

May all your quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing CHRIST to shine through.